


Remuneration

by Mansion



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Gen, Onus, Sparks Nevada: Marshal on Mars, mini-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansion/pseuds/Mansion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Croach fulfills his onus. Again. For like the zillionth time or whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remuneration

" _The marshal station doors are open,_ " the AI trilled as Croach entered.

"Greetings, Sparks Nevada."

There was a second of pause while Sparks finished writing something, then he looked up. "Morning, Croach. Hey, hand me one of them file folders, would ya?"

Croach did so, then stopped, suddenly stricken.

"Sparks Nevada, by handing you this file folder, my onus to you is complete."

"What, from this?" He stuffed the reports he had been working on in the folder as he spoke.

"Yes. It was the final act of restitution."

Sparks stood, and dropped the folder into a drawer of the file cabinet behind him.  "Huh... Didn't I just save the planet, like, three months back or something? Wow. These seem like they're going faster lately."

"I have become extremely efficient at repaying onus."

"Reckon so. And reckon I am placing you under onus, so... there."

"I assume this is an attempt at human levity to diffuse tension."

“Well, you are super bad at assuming, then, because it ain't. You even been checking the space-cal lately? There's a cattle drive running through the volcano-side of Mars today that's basically for sure gonna get rustled by some manner of outlaw and I ain't got time to find a new deputy--or _person who unofficially does deputy type things_ \--on this kind of notice. So. One day's worth of onus."

"Onus is not enumerated in synodic periods."

"You're causing me one day's worth of trouble so it'll take one day to pay it back, end of which we'll be square."

"That is not..." Croach paused and recalibrated. "That is _exactly_ how it works."

"Yeah, well, I kinda read some of them ancient majun scrolls that month that Red was hanging around trying to study up on 'em. Well. 'Read' is a strong word. Skimmed a bit. It was a slow month."

"And you parsed their meaning?"

"Wasn't nothing but a rulebook--"

"They are considerably more than a mere set of rules--"

"And they're ain't never been a rulebook written I couldn't wrangle,” Sparks finished, stepping on Croach’s protest. “Memorized the rules to Advanced Theoretical Quantum Baseball when I was twelve. For fun."

"The third most difficult to comprehend of the known sports. Impressive."

"Third? More like... second, probably. At least."

"Incorrect."

"More onus at you."

"Sparks Nevada, you may not place me under onus for failing to support your delusional vision of quantifiable reality! In fact, you may not place me under onus at all as you are not a denizen of G'loot Praktaw--"

"Hey, I live here. Get my mail here and everything."

"Irrelevant! Your claim has no validity and I am under no compulsion to abide by it. I am free to return to my tribe."

"Yeah. But it'll bug you if you leave now. 'Cause you know I'm right."

Croach imitated a sigh. "I would be under onus to you if you would cease this mockery of onus."

"Okay. Fine. That. Same difference anyway."

"It is not, Sparks Nevada."

"Is from where I'm standin', bein' that I'm gonna go get my robot fists and you an' me are gonna ride out to the other side of the planet."

"And once this is enacted... My onus shall be remunerated in entirety."

"Yeah, sure," Sparks said, unlocking the armory. "...unless something else happens today," he murmured under his breath as he disappeared into the other room momentarily.

Croach blinked, and considered this for a long moment while Sparks rummaged around.

"...Sparks Nevada, I am under onus to you," he said carefully upon the marshal's return.

"No duh. We just had the longest conversation about it ever." Sparks tossed Croach a spare quiver of techno arrows, then leaned over the marshal desk to jot something down. "Least you don't have to move your stuff out of the station," he said offhandedly.

"I do not store possessions at the marshal station."

"Ain't my romance novels hidden in the bottom left drawer of the deputy desk under a stack of old personnel files."

"Those were borrowed, and are therefore not my possessions," Croach said quickly. "Also, I did not realize you were aware of their presence."

"Whatever. And I thought Rebecca was a trashy writer. Anyway, let's move out. Got a lot of riding to do before this day even starts proper."

Croach shouldered the quiver and followed.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think this fandom appreciates the fact that Sparks and Croach are basically the two biggest dorks on the face of Mars enough. Nerrrrrrrrds.
> 
> I love writing these idiots so much.


End file.
